Goin' Down to Springfield, Gonna Have Myself A Burger
by Little Miss Lovejoy
Summary: Crossover of Simpsons, South Park, and Bob's Burgers. Some new people move to Springfield. Can they make friends, or will it be disaster?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Actually a crossover between Simpsons, South Park, Bob's Burgers, and a tiny bit of Rick and Morty and a single nod at Moral Orel if you catch the reference :3

* * *

"Won't someone PLEASE think of the children?!" Helen Lovejoy exclaimed in agony while looking at the new movie poster at the Aztec Theater. The movie was aimed at children, but she thought it was too vulgar. She did not think any children should be viewing it.

"Oh my!" came an unfamiliar voice, and when a voice was unfamiliar to Helen, she became suspicious.

She turned and squinted. "Who are you?"

"Oh, I am terribly sorry. My name is Liane Cartman. I am from South Park!"

"Oh, that explains it," Helen muttered, realizing why she couldn't have known the woman. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Helen Lovejoy."

"Hello, Helen," the woman smiled sweetly. She turned back to the movie poster, her eyes a little wide. "I do agree with you; I don't think this movie is really fit for children. My poopsikins might get nightmares!"

"Your what now?"

"My little boy, Eric!" Liane laughed softly, her hand to her mouth.

"If that movie is anything like that Terrence and Philip movie, you know who's to blame!" came yet another unfamiliar voice.

"Are you from South Park, too?" Helen asked.

"Yes, I am! I'm Sheila Broflovski, and I believe we have a case of Canadians on our hands, ladies!" She slammed her fist into her hand.

"Um, come again?" Helen raised an eye.

Suddenly there was a giggle coming from behind them. They turned to see Marge Simpson. "Canadians? There's no Canadians in Springfield!" Suddenly the woman let out a gasp. "Oh, no! Is that the movie my Bart went to see yesterday? . . . Oh, it is! I had no idea what it was."

Helen smirked. "I think we have a case of bad parenting, is what we have."

Marge narrowed her eyes. "Don't get me started on _bad parenting,_ Miss My Daughter is Never with Me."

Helen gasped and then pursed her lips.

"Ladies, please!" Sheila exclaimed. "We don't need your arguing. We need to start a fuss!"

"I'm good at that," Helen stepped forward. "I say we get together a protest."

Sheila started pacing, hardly listening to Helen. "It needs to be big! We need to gather all the parents! We need to make a _huge_ stink! We need to make the biggest, craziest protest this town has ever seen!"

"Sheila, I don't know if that's the best idea," Liane tried to say, knowing just how crazy things she did could get.

"Nonsense! Now we need some explosives."

"Explosives?!" Helen's eyes widened.

"You never know when they might come in handy," Sheila shrugged. "Now let's do this, girls!"

"I beg your pardon!" Helen crossed her arms. "I am the one who runs things around here."

"Sorry, if you want to lead, you've got to be loud! Now, you can either join my protest or you can leave."

Helen let out a low growl but consented, knowing this was important to do whether she led it or not.

As they were marching around chanting, they were getting little to no attention other than a few annoyed passerby. The women of Springfield were quite used to this, but Sheila was getting irritated. "This won't do at all! Does no one listen in this town?!"

"Well, we have protests quite a lot," Marge piped up. "Perhaps they just started to ignore us!"

Sheila got a menacing look on her face as she said quietly, "Perhaps it's time to unleash the explosives."

Liane touched Sheila's shoulder. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Sheila whipped around. "Then what is your great idea? I don't see you coming up with anything useful!"

Suddenly, another woman that nobody recognized at all walked up. "Oh, wow! Are you doing a protest? How fun! What is it about?"

Helen sighed sharply. "And who are _you?_"

"I'm Linda Belcher! My family was going around visiting all the crappiest towns for fun, and someone directed us here! It's definitely on the top of the crappy list!" She laughed cheerfully.

Helen raised an eye, bewildered but just shook her head. "As if it were any of your business, we are protesting against this terrible movie they are showing at the theater. It isn't appropriate for our children."

"Oh, that's a dilly of a pickle!" She laughed again, amused with herself. "It's funny because I work at a restaurant that sells burgers!. . . Pickles? Burgers? Eh? Oh wait, you wouldn't know that so it's not funny to you. . . But anyway, listen, you all need a better chant, that's what you need! I can help you out."

"That's hardly necessary," Helen hissed. She was getting annoyed with all of these new women barging in on her protest.

"No, no! It's fine. I don't mind—really! Here we go, um. . . Oh, here!" The woman grabbed a picket sign and started waving it around, chanting, "We don't want your stupid smut, take it and shove it up your butt! While we adults don't give a frick, our kids don't need to see your dicks! They don't need to see the boobies so please take 'em out of your movie!"

Helen's eye twitched, Marge's jaw dropped, Sheila's eyebrows raised, and Liane said, "Oh my!"

"Thanks for the tip, lady!" A group of teenagers ran up to the ticket booth to purchase tickets for the movie. "Hell yeah; I can't wait to see me some boobs!"

"Look what you did!" Helen exclaimed. "You just encouraged them! Get out!"

Linda shrugged. "Alright, alright, I'll go help out some other crappy town's protest. No biggee!"

Helen was so flustered from what they just saw as she turned back to the group. "That woman is terrible."

"Oh, she was only trying to help," Marge said, though she was just as bewildered, in all honesty.

"It's time for plan B," Sheila said quietly.

"Plan B?" Helen raised an eye.

"We're bringing out the explosives."

"Those are banned here because of _Bart Simpson._" Helen turned to Marge and chuckled a little. "Oh, sorry."

"Well, I will think of something. I _will_ make a fuss, I _will _be heard. I am Sheila Broflovski, and I _will_ have my way!"

"Why do you even care? They're not your children," Helen pursed her lips.

Sheila turned slowly to Helen and spoke in a low voice. "I'm not doing it for the children. I'm doing it for _justice._"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: so I just took the fact Jessica Lovejoy reads at a 5th grade level and also is not shown in classrooms and moved her up to 5th grade.

* * *

"Alright, class, we have a new student today—Louise Belcher." Miss Hoover presented the child to her class without so much of a smile. "Tell us a little about yourself but keep it short."

Louise smiled to the class. "Hi, I'm Louise. Back where I come from, I was the smartest kid in class!"

Lisa tensed up in her seat. _Oh, no! Not competition!_

Louise laughed. "But I was also probably the laziest!"

_Oh, phew! _Lisa giggled inside her head.

"My dad is in the FBI so we had to move to your stinkhole town. My mom's a stripper, and my siblings and I are in a gang so watch out!" She scanned the room with squinted eyes, hoping to scare the students.

Before she could sit in her seat, Miss Hoover sighed, rolling her eyes. "Principal's office, Louise."

"Already? Man!" Louise laughed. "I haven't even been here five minutes, and she's already sending me to the principal's office! This teacher!" She continued to laugh as she left the room. Once she shut the door behind her, her eyes darkened. "Revenge will be taken on you, Miss Hoover."

* * *

In Mrs. Krabappel's room, she was also introducing new students. She stood at the front of the room with a young boy on either side of her. "Class, we have two new students. Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman; they both have come here from South Park, Colorado. Does anyone know where that is, class?"

"Ooh, ooh!" Milhouse's hand shot up. "Colorado!"

Edna stared at him with a bewildered expression. "I meant on the map, Milhouse!"

"You didn't specify," he frowned.

Bart laughed from beside him.

"Bart Simpson!" Edna exclaimed by instinct before smiling again. "Now, why don't you two boys tell a bit about yourself?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Cartman exclaimed, sitting down in an empty desk.

Kyle, on the other hand, obeyed the teacher, telling a little about himself before sitting down beside Eric.

"Oh, boys—no hats in the classroom."

"Yes, ma'am," Eric said instantly, taking his off and looking over at Kyle with a grin.

Kyle frowned. "Do I have to, ma'am?"

"I'm afraid so. School rules!"

He slowly took off his hat, revealing his poofy, red hair in which the children started to laugh at. He sunk into his seat, embarrassed.

Bart scooted his desk a bit away from Cartman, causing the boy to raise his eyes and laugh a little. "What's the matter?"

"I don't want to be near you; you'll get me in trouble!"

Eric continued to laugh. "Oh, boy; look! He's scared of me!"

A few kids giggled to themselves, and even Edna could not help let out a "Ha!" finding it amusing that Bart was scared of another student—a new student, at that.

"Look, man, you're on a way higher level than me; I don't want to be near you!" Bart whispered.

"Scaredy cat!"

"Alright, class, settle down."

Cartman continued laughing.

"Eric Cartman, be quiet!"

"You can't tell me what to do, bitch!" The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"Principal's office—now!" She pointed to the door.

* * *

In the fifth grade classroom, Gene Belcher was being introduced as a new student, as well.

"What a dork!" Jimbo called out.

"Yeah, meet us at the flagpole at recess, dude!" Dolph added.

"We're gonna beat you up!" Kearney contributed.

"Hey, don't judge him so quickly!" Jessica Lovejoy frowned. "He might be a really cool guy!"

"Yeah!" Gene exclaimed. "I'm super cool! I'm a musician!"

"Oh yeah? Show us!" Jimbo kicked his feet up on the chair in front of him and leaned back in his seat.

"Okay! Feast your eyes on this!" He started pressing buttons on his keyboard, fart noises emitting from it in different pitches.

"Oh, God, he's a dork," Jessica muttered, hitting her palm to her forehead. "Do what you wish, boys," She waved a hand at the bullies, no longer caring to defend Gene.

* * *

In the principal's office, Louise Belcher and Eric Cartman sat across from Principal Skinner, who did not look happy. "Both of you are new students, and you are already in my office? Why—that could be a new record!"

"Whoa, we broke a record!" Louise grinned, reaching over for a high five from Cartman.

"This is not to be celebrated, young lady," Seymour said through gritted teeth.

"What are you in for?" Louise asked the boy.

"I called the teacher a bitch."

"Whoa-ho! That's awesome!" she laughed.

"What about you?"

"I told the class my dad was in the FBI, my mother was a stripper, and my sister, brother, and I were in a gang."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I felt like it, and the teacher didn't like it so she sent me here!" She propped her feet up on the principal's desk, and he shooed them off.

"How do you feel about revenge?" She whispered to Eric.

"Keep talking," the boy smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

"Alright, Eric, here's what I'm thinking," Louise Belcher said in hushed tones as the two went walking home from detention. "I heard that Miss Hoover is practically terrified of being sick, and she will take the littlest thing like a sore throat and think she is dying!"

"That's weird."

"She's a freakin' hypochondriac or something!"

"We could make her sick."

"Yes! And I know just how."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you _don't._ You couldn't have had an idea that quickly."

"Well, I was gonna. . ."

Eric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, so we'll make your teacher sick. _My_ teacher is a huge slut apparently."

"It's definitely possible. I heard of one kid who got his whole town pregnant."

"Whoa! How?!"

"Something about squirting his jizz inside ladies."

"His _WHAT_?"

"Oh, I forgot, you're a kid."

"Tell me!"

"Are you sure?"

"_Tell me_!"

"Fine, but I warned you. . . So. . ." Eric started explaining in his view what he thought went down.

"Ew, is that how babies are made?" Louise had a slightly horrified look on her face.

"I guess. Sick, dude!" Eric had not exactly put two and two together, but he found that very disturbing.

"You're not going to do that to Mrs. Krabappel, are you?"

"Hell, no. That's fucking sick. We'll just make her think she's pregnant."

"Hey, this is my house," Louise pointed. "Call me."

* * *

Once Eric got in his house, he said, "Mom, if a girl calls, it's for me."

"Does my poopsikins have a girlfriend?"

"No! God, Mom. We're concocting an evil plan."

"Oh. Alright, hon!"

Eric continued to his room and turned his computer. He knew his mother would not believe him when he said such a thing, but that was probably best. He checked Facebook, finding that Kyle had tagged him in something, making fun of him for getting in trouble. _Yeah, real mature, Kyle._ He scrolled through his news feed, finding Kyle's status had caused a lot of his "friends" to make fun of him, as well. He sent a message to each of them with two words: "Fuck you."

He sat back in his chair and started thinking of ways they could get revenge on their teachers. They had the basis of their plan, but how would they do it? He knew he was well capable of doing evil and getting away with it, but was Louise up to his speed? Somehow, he doubted it, but hopefully she was good enough to help.

He noticed a message appear on his screen, seeing it was from Kenny. It read, "What the fuck did _I_ do?"

Eric's eyes widened slightly, realizing he had messaged people too fast, assuming they all had made fun, when in reality, Kenny had not said anything. He wrote back quickly, "Oh, Kenny, I am sorry, dude. Everyone was making fun of me, and I guess I was not paying attention to who it was."

". . . It's okay. How is Springfield?"

"It's alright. I've already got detention because our teacher is a bitch."

"Weak! We kind of miss you here. . . Stan is really missing Kyle. He's seeing everything as shit, and I don't know what to do."

"Oh. . . I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure I can whine to Mom about wanting to go home soon, but first I must get revenge on my slut of a teacher."

"Oh, wow, good luck, dude!"

"Thanks."

* * *

When Louise walked in the burger restaurant, her dad said a bit irritably, "There you are! Louise, where have you been?"

"I had detention."

"What? Why?"

"Said some lies about my sisters being in a gang."

"But we are," Tina said, referring to a joke Louise once made. "The Glass Cutters or something."

"It was The Broken Glass Kids, Tina. Get it right!"

"Oh."

"And I said my mom was a stripper!" Louise grinned.

"What about me?"

"Dad, you were an FBI agent."

"Wow!" he smiled proudly.

"An FBI agent and a stripper—alright!" Linda cheered.

"Yeah, so if a fat kid calls, it's for me," Louise said.

"Hey—I'm the fat kid!" Gene exclaimed.

"No, this kid is fucking fat, dude."

"Louise Belcher!" Linda scolded. "Where did you learn that language?"

"Detention," the girl shrugged. Before sitting down in a booth, she noticed her brother had a black eye. "What happened to _you?_"

"I got beat up by bullies!"

* * *

"Alright, ladies," Helen Lovejoy said as she sat at the head of the dining table in her house, the next morning. "What are we going to do about this awful movie?"

"Who put _you _in charge?" Sheila Broflovski asked.

"This is _my_ dining table."

"So? I'm not listening to an old woman! You will get us nowhere."

"I am _not_ old. I'm only 29!"

"34," her husband corrected from behind her.

"Ugh, Tim! Shoo!" the woman shooed her husband, who merely laughed as he walked away. He was always there to correct her when she tried to pretend she was still 29, and she hated that.

"You may as well let her run it," Marge Simpson shrugged. "She gets awfully whiny when she doesn't get her way."

Sheila shook her head. "If she's a whiner, she's never going to get anywhere. I come from Jersey, so I think all of you better just sit down."

"What's the big deal about coming from Jersey?" Helen chuckled quietly. "What is the worst you could do?"

Sheila turned and stared at the woman a moment before saying quietly, "I don't think you want to know, Mrs. Lovejoy. Just sit your little, whiny ass down and let's get to work."

"And just what makes you think I am going to obey _you?_!" Helen pounded her fists on the table, causing Marge to groan. She had a feeling they were not going to get anything done.

* * *

In class, Miss Hoover was trying to teach, but Louise kept interrupting to say things such as, "Miss Hoover, you don't look well."

At first, the teacher brushed her off as if she were just buying time because they were to have a test that day. "No," Louise would insist. "You really look unwell, Miss. I think you might have a fever or something. I can almost feel the heat emitting from your body!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Lisa Simpson muttered. "You're just trying to get out of the test. I studied, and I want to take it."

"No, Lisa, this is not about the test. I have this test in the bag, but Miss Hoover. . . she doesn't look good. She looks so pale. I'm scared for her. I don't think she should be in here teaching. She should be at home in bed." She glanced over and saw her teacher finally giving in, seeing her clutch her head.

"You might be right, Louise," Miss Hoover sighed. "I do feel a bit faint, now that I think about it, and my temples are throbbing. . . I think I'm going to have to leave, children. Right now." The teacher did not say anything else but merely packed her things and ran out of the classroom.

"Mission accomplished," Louise muttered under her breath.

"What are you talking about?" Lisa turned, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing at all," Louise shrugged but smiled to herself.

* * *

Eric was having success, as well. He had slipped something in his teacher's coffee in hopes of giving her nausea. He had seemed to accomplish this; however, it was going to take more than a few tries to convince her she was pregnant.

Mrs. Krabappel getting nauseous every morning throughout the week was not only making her suspicious, it was also making her students suspicious. "Ha ha!" Nelson said as he had every day that as his teacher suddenly ran out of the room, but he frowned. "Suddenly, my 'ha ha's don't seem appropriate. Man, I hope she's alright. She's been getting sick an awful lot."

"Yeah," Bart agreed. "I wonder what's wrong with her!"

"I bet Cartman knows," Kyle said simply.

"Now, how the Hell would I know?" Eric crossed his arms.

When the teacher walked back in, she sighed, slipping into her seat behind her desk, mumbling something about morning sickness and pregnancy.

"Oh, no!" Eric said aloud, overdramatically. "Pregnant? However could this have happened?"

"You _do_ know something about this, don't you, fat ass?"

"Kyle, of course I don't. She can't help that she's a little slut. It was bound to happen one day, wasn't it?"

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose and let his head fall on his desk. He just knew that Cartman had something to do with this. How could he not?

Mrs. Krabappel had heard the 'slut' comment and sighed sharply. "Eric, principal's office."

"Yes, ma'am!" Eric smiled and got up, walking out of the classroom and out of the school building.

Out of nowhere, a strange portal appeared in the center of the classroom. A young boy fell out of it, and an older man stepped out behind him, carrying some type of gun.

"Uh. . . Rick, I don't think this is where we intended on going. These people look pretty. . . yellow!"

"Uh, yeah, I don't know where we are, Morty. I think we made a wrong turn," the man let out a careless belch as he pulled on the boy's hand.

The class was wide eyed, confused, and some were interested. Bart grinned. "Whoa! Are you from outer space? Do you know Kang and Kodos?"

"Uh. . . those stupid aliens from Rigel 7? They're douchebags, yeah, why?"

"Just curious!"

The man pulled the little boy back through the portal. "Come on, Morty!"

"Wait, don't leave!" Bart called after them, wishing the strange new people would stay. He sighed when they, along with the portal, had vanished.

* * *

As Eric was walking home, he found his mother's car parked at a house he knew not of but he walked up and rang the doorbell. A grey headed woman who looked like she was in immense pain answered the door. "Can I help you?" she asked, aggravated.

"Is my mom here?"

"Who is your mother? The rude, fat, red head?"

"Oh, no, ma'am. That would be Kyle's mom. My mom has brown hair, and she is the sweetest lady in the world."

"Is that my Eric?" Liane appeared at the doorway. "Eric, hon, what are you doing home from school?"

"I want to get the Hell out of this place!" he exclaimed. "I hate it here, Mom. I just . . . want. . . to go. . . home," he whined, tears falling from his eyes.

"Oh, sweetie, I agree. I think going home is a good idea. I don't know why we thought coming to this town was a good idea in the first place."

"Can we leave Kyle?"

"Well, that would be up to his mother, Eric, but I do hope that Mrs. Broflovski decides to return, as well. She has not been too good at making friends here. She ended up hurting Mrs. Lovejoy pretty badly. I think her arm is broken. I'm terribly sorry about that, again," she said to Helen, who clenched her teeth.

"Just get out of my house! And for goodness' sake, take Mrs. Broflovski and Mrs. Belcher with you!"

"What? What did I do?" Linda asked, cramming one last peanut in her mouth from a bowl before smiling, trying to look innocent.

"You just answered your own question. Get out!" Helen tried to point with her hand, only to find herself in alarming pain in her arm again. "Tim!" she whined.

"Look, I am awfully sorry," Sheila said as she walked past, "but I told you not to mess with a Jersey girl."

"Get out!" Helen said through clenched teeth, hurrying to her husband, who instantly helped her to the car, knowing her arm would need immediate attention from a doctor.

* * *

"And apparently admitted herself into the hospital, insisting she was deathly ill. How crazy it that?!" Louise laughed, banging her fist on the restaurant counter. "All because I made her think she was sick. She's probably not even really sick!"

Bob raised an eye. "That's. . . that's kind of awful, Louise."

"Alright, got all my stuff packed," Linda said, coming into the restaurant.

"Packed? Where are you going?" Louise asked.

"We're all going back home. This place is crap. Everyone is mean and doesn't want to be my friend."

"Yeah," Bob agreed, "and I got in a fight with a clown earlier about burgers. He didn't seem to like that we set up our restaurant. I guess he doesn't like competition. . . But I don't like getting beat up, either, so I guess we're leaving."

"I don't like getting beat up, either!" Gene announced proudly, sporting a fresh black eye.

"Is anyone going to ask me what I think about this place?" Tina asked for she had not got to express her feelings about the town since they got there.

"Uh, sure, Tina," Bob shrugged.

"I hate it!" she exploded.

"Well, then, it's settled. We're moving back to . . . wherever it is we came from," Linda said.

* * *

"You really beat someone up?!" Kyle asked as they were heading to the airport.

"I'm not proud of it, Kyle," Sheila frowned. "I am glad we are getting out of this town, though. It's full of awful people."

"I don't know, the people weren't too bad," Kyle shrugged. "But I do miss my best friends."

"Well, don't worry, bubby, you'll soon be reunited. We're never leaving South Park again!"

"Hurray!" Kyle smiled. ". . .Wait, if you hurt someone, what if they sue?"

"Oh, pish posh. She wouldn't dare, and even so, I've got a great lawyer right here!" Sheila smiled over to her husband.

* * *

"And my teacher got pregnant because she's a slut, and I had nothing to do with it. . ."

"Eric," Liane quietly reprimanded, unsure if her son was telling the truth.

"Okay, fine, I made her think she was pregnant. . ."

"Eric, that is a very bad thing."

"I know. . . So, it feels good to be going home, doesn't it, Mom?"

Liane relaxed a little as they drove over to the airport. "Yes, I do agree. It will be nice to be home again. You probably miss your little friends."

"Yeah, I miss Kenny, and Stan, too, I guess. Kenny might be poor, but he is my best friend, I think."

* * *

"Oh, thank God, I'm not pregnant!" Edna sighed a breath of relief as she read the test.

"Thank God, is right!" Agnes said loudly, having been standing outside the door, waiting anxiously. "I'm not ready to be a grandmother yet!"

Edna rolled her eyes a little, thankful the woman couldn't see through the door.

* * *

"Miss Hoover?" Lisa said quietly, walking up to the woman's hospital bed. "Please come back to class. We were supposed to be taking a history test!"

"Lisa, there are more things in life than tests. Like illness and death. . ." she shivered, pulling her blanket over her more.

"Miss Hoover, you are not sick. Louise Belcher is a vile little girl seeking revenge on you for sending her to the principal. She only wanted you to think you were sick. You are just fine. . . Please, believe me."

"I don't know, Lisa. I don't feel well."

"I think the best place for you to be is teaching us in the classroom. . . After all, lying in this hospital bed isn't going to earn you your paycheck. . . and I'm sure hospitals are expensive."

Miss Hoover's eyes widened slightly. "You're right, Lisa. . ." she sighed, closing her eyes.

Lisa smiled and reached a hand out to her teacher, who shook her head. "I am capable of getting up myself, thank you, Lisa."

* * *

When Eric was settled back in his old home in South Park, he turned on Facebook, expecting awful things about him from Kyle again. Instead, he found a delightful surprise. It was a post on his page from Louise Belcher. It read, "I'm gonna miss you, kid."

"I'm going to miss you, too!" he wrote back instantly, a smile on his face as he sat back in his chair, thoughtfully. One good thing did come out of temporarily living in a new place. He had met a new friend. Thank God for technology because they wouldn't have to completely lose touch. They couldn't have anymore schemes to plan together, but they could relate to each other their own plans. He was glad to have a new friend, even if she was a girl.

His face lit up with glee when he received a message from her. As he was typing a message back, his mother came up behind him. "Who are you talking to, hon?"

"Louise," he answered simply.

"How sweet."

"She's not my girlfriend, Mom!" Eric shouted.

"I didn't say she was, Eric," Liane smiled, laughing quietly to herself with her hand over her mouth as she exited her son's bedroom.


End file.
